To hold it in shackles, which, slight--
Ho! ho!--
Yet fit so remarkably tight.

The chains may feel light as a thread,
Russian Bear!
As light and as slight as a thread;
But though light be the chain. Will his might and his main
Again rend it in twain? Fear is fled!
Quite fled!
And old animosity dead.
Haw! haw!

Nay, laugh not I pray you so loud,
Russian Bear!
Oh! laugh not so loud and so clear!
Though sly is your smile The heart to beguile,
Bruin's chuckle is horrid to hear,
O dear!
And makes quidnuncs quake and feel queer.

You have quite turned the tables, that's true,
Russian Bear,
The dancer did use to be _you_.
Now _you_ thump the tabor, And France, your "dear neighbour,"
Seems game to dance on till all's blue.
Hurroo!

Alliances _are_ pretty things,
Russian Bear!